


That's what teammates are for

by BlueberryPerson



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Happy ending???, It's not very descriptive of the wound but yeah mentions of blood, Other, So I made a slight alteration to the scene where Peter takes a bullet for Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueberryPerson/pseuds/BlueberryPerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the disaster already has happened, and the Avengers are left to deal with the aftermath of it there is a lot of conflicting emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's what teammates are for

 

> _"In hospitals, they say you know when you're going to die. Some doctors say it's a look patients get in their eyes. Some say there's a scent, a certain smell. Some say it's some kind of sixth sense. When the great beyond is headed for you, you feel it coming. If today were your last day on Earth? How would you spend it?" - Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy_

 

With all the things Peter had seen so far in his life he had no issue imagining the most unlikely of things. It didn’t even seem complicated to imagine that somehow a gigantic lobster was trying to drag down Soho into the wate. It wasn’t all too strange to picture someone making a full blackout of all of Manhattan to use the full electric capability of New York City to power a super weapon instead. All of this was a very real reality of Peter Benjamin Parker. Or at least to Spider-man.

To be told that some people just woke up knowing that this would be their last day on earth. It didn’t actually sound impossible. He could get behind it. That some people simply knew. That it didn’t bother them. That it didn’t make them fuzz over it too much.

He just didn’t think he would miss out on that himself.

With all the dangers Peter experienced on a daily basis one could of course argue he woke up every day with such a realization. But Peter was an optimist. He sure had bad days, and his fair share of depressed moments. He still didn’t truly doubt he wouldn’t come home at the end of the day. Didn’t think it somehow would work out, either by his hands or someone else’s.

To miss out on the realization, miss out on saying goodbye, miss out on enjoying the little things that was left.  
It felt like he had been cheated.

When he first had moved his mind wasn't even thinking. He just moved. Pure instinct. Not even spider-senses playing in to apply to the equation of logic that didn’t exist. He had just seen the aim of the gun. He had seen Captain freaking America being the destined target. And he had taken the jump. Knocked Steve out of the way, and taking the bullet himself. Through and through. Splitting his flesh open, and making blood pulse out like a fire post gone mad.

There was so much blood. Peter had seen blood lots of times, but never this amount coming from himself. It was strange. Shocking. He didn’t even feel like he was looking at himself when his hands came in his line of vision. Trembling like he was being shaken by an earthquake. How was that even possible? Why was his body reacting so fast? Making his whole field of vision swim in and out of focus. Sometimes even going completely black.

He could make out voices. Some here and there was familiar. Damn it, Parker. get yourself together. You’re a Superhero. A bullet won’t take you down. Just walk it off. Shake your senses back where they belong, and man up.

He did just that - shake his head - but boy it didn’t help. Grabbing over his own wound, however. That sent a jolt sharp enough to have his whole body experiencing too much again. Putting him too bluntly in the real world, after having had a minute to swim in something unreal.

With his mask still covering his whole face, Peter gasped for air, struggled to get his body up. He managed to get to his knees when a large hand held his shoulder. Holding him steady while the owner of said hand came down right in front of him. What was he saying? He was talking right? And not just moving his lips to be a jerk?

“-dey! Listen to me, kid. This is too dangerous. We can’t have you out in the field. For- Just think for once! You’re a teenager! We can’t babysit you when we’re having an emergency! Go home! Go to a hospital. Stay there. Stay put.”

Well that sure sounded a whole lot like Captain freaking (ungrateful) America. Overbearing. Overprotective. Just generally over everything and over the top. Still, even now. Peter saw him as the best man on the field today. The most capable. The most trustworthy. Yet he would’ve protested and worked against everything Steve had said, if he only could.

He couldn’t.

Talking hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt. Before he could even try to protest and argue, Steve was walking away from him. It just left Peter with a tired smile no one could see. Of course. Steve Rogers don’t have time to be a babysitter.

The last thing he saw was Captain America putting his shield on his back, running back towards Manhattan, away from Brooklyn bridge. Away from Peter Benjamin Parker. Away from the delirious state the teenager was. Away from the boy who idolized him even as he was left to bleed out by the very same man.

He swore he saw stars and stripes around Steve before his vision vent black.

**_____________________________**

 

“How on earth did he get left behind?!”  
“Sir, a lot of peo-”  
“Don’t try to say he is just one of many. He is a part of your team. You always keep an eye on your team. All of you should know that. We don’t leave our own behind.”  
“Sir, as much as we have each other’s backs. We-”  
“You what..? You are allowed to leave your teammates to bleed out?”

The last comment were aimed at a particular person that seemed conflicted. The large man sat at the far end of the table, studying the table with unusual interest simply to not meet anyone’s eyes. Only problem was he now had the attention of the whole room. They were all staring at him. Expecting him to at least say something anything.

When Steve did lift his eyes he truly felt like he had done the worst decision of his life. Meeting Clint’s eyes right now was nothing he had been prepared for. He had seen Clint ready to murder before. When it was a job. When it was a mission. He had never seen the full force of Clint’s fury concentrated to his eyes that glared right back at him.

“You cost us one of the best, Rogers.”  
“Hey! I didn-”  
“Oh no! You don’t get to talk. You shut up and you listen. You better listen real good too. That kid? He worships the ground you walk on. He has your freaking autograph on a t-shirt framed on his wall! You and Stark are his Heroes, _his personal Heroes_. Sure he looked up to all of us in this room. But the two of you were the people he wanted to be when he grew up. Because of you he might never grow up! He might not even get a chance to try to become you or Stark. And frankly for that I am happy. I hope to the god you believe in he never become someone like you.”

To Steve it felt like the whole room had been emptied, and it was just him and Barton left. Staring at each other. It felt like his ears was ringing, the words echoing in his head together with the ever climbing degree of guilt he was experiencing. But the worst part was that through Clint’s whole rant, he hadn’t raised his voice. It had stayed leveled. It had been collected. Making the anger literally radiating from the blonde man so much harder to accept. So much harder to experience and not be affected.

He was so affected he could crumble this very moment. But a Captain doesn’t crumble. He doesn’t have that luxury. Or that was what Steve told himself to keep himself together at all.

Silence lingered around all of them. Some seemed just as angry as Clint. Some seemed more compromised by their own conflicting emotions and opinions on the matter. But no one dared speak up. Just hearing the sound of his own chair scraping against the floor felt like being stabbed. Everyone could hear every movement he did. How he got up. How he put his chair back in under the table. How he turned around and left the room.

He could feel the stares following his back out of the room.

He could feel the stab of the trust people had in him this morning now shattering as he walked away.

**_____________________________**

 

A pained expression was sitting firmly over Clint’s features as he sat beside the hospital bed. Observing and trying to comprehend what had happened, what was happening. It was such a mess to just wrap his head around. Frankly he didn’t want to. It was that kind of complicated that just hurt. It wasn’t right. Never would be at this point.

For someone that usually looked like crap, usually because of black marks and bruises of different kinds. Clint had found a new low for his crap kind of looking. Not even a whole day has passed, yet he looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. How he could manage that no one could explain, but everyone that new Clinton ‘Clint’ Barton knew he was the one to manage it if anyone could.

His hands was still holding what was left of Peter’s suit. They had no choice but to cut it open. Bit by bit it had been stripped from Peter’s small body, and now Clint was holding it. The scraps it now was. It was dirty and destroyed, never to be worn again most likely. But Clint refused to let it go down the trash. Instead he held it. As if he had made a promise to Peter to not let the boy and what he had worked for, what he had done. go down the drain.

Someone had to believe in him, the way he had believed in them.

“Barton. Coffee.”

He hadn’t even registered the door opening and someone enter before the take-away cup was pushed against his shoulder. Lifting his head, Clint got the full view of Bucky. Holding out one cup for Clint to take. And drinking from another himself.

Well if that wasn’t one ironic sight to behold.

Taking the cup, Clint nodded a mute thank you while the other man pulled up a share to sit next to him.

Silence fell again, only ever disturbed by the beeps of the monitors keeping Peter’s body alive. Making sure he stayed with them for a little bit longer.

It was nice. Just having the silent company like this. Not talking. Not being told to go and make things better again with Steve. Honestly Clint had expected the shorter man next to him to do something similar. Tell him he was being too harsh. That he was wrong. Anything to make him patch things up. But he didn’t. It was just another way to confirm how much a better person Bucky was than he expected. He really was growing on him.

Their silent calm was violently disturbed, enough so that both of them got up, searching through the room’s window to get a look of the corridor outside. See what was going on. What was yelling so much. What was ruining the calm a hospital needed- Maybe calling the Avengers Tower a hospital was a bit of a stretch.

Both men moved out of the room. Leaving their coffee, and Peter’s ruined suit. behind to get a better look. They didn’t have to move very far before a man was thrown their way, crashing against the wall with a thud and complaining noise.

Clint’s eyebrows was way up on his forehead when he noticed it was Steve. Which only lead him to wonder, who had thrown him?

He didn’t have to wonder for very long when he heard the loud voice of Wade Wilson, for once in the tower without his red and black suit on.

“You’re a dead man Rogers!”  
“Wilson!”

Had he been in any other mindset Clint would’ve been surprised at how loud his voice could be with so little effort. His voice wasn’t even raw from that, or from before. From when he had been hating on the man who he now was being a human shield for. Clint stood firmly on the length of floor between Wade and Steve. Cutting Wade from being able to hurl himself after the sitting man one more time. Bucky on the other hand wasn't moving. He was assessing the situation very closely to see what would be the better thing to do. Meaning; if he needed to help Clint hold Wade back within a near future, or pull Steve the fuck away from the circus.

“Are you- You have got to be kidding me, Barton?! You’re seriously going to try to keep me from kicking his- No I’m not going to kick his ass, I’m going to rip him apart! I’m g-”  
“Enough Wade! It won’t bring Peter back!”  
“Like I don’t know that!”  
“Hurting Steve won’t help! It won’t make shit better!”  
“It will make me feel a fuck load better-”  
“No it won’t! It will hurt you more. Doesn’t matter if any of us fights back, you will hurt more than any of us. He’s not coming back because you hit a particular spot the right way.”  
“... But.”  
“No, Wade... “

A shuddering breath escaped Wade’s scarred lips. Making his whole body experience the tremor, while his anger shifted, and his features instead displayed the complete extent of his pain. His hurt.

“I’m sorry. We can’t help him anymore.”  
“Is-...”  
“He’s sleeping.”  
“No he’s not.”

Clint just shook his head to confirm how right Wade was. No, Peter wasn’t sleeping.

Coma wasn't sleep.

Silence once more fell around them, making Clint beg for anything or anyone make a noise again. Then again he could understand why no one dared make either move or sound. Wade still seemed more than ready to take someone out. That someone being Steve, who was now sitting leaning against the wall, not looking at anyone in particular. And then there was Bucky- Okay why didn’t Bucky seem troubled by any of this?

An absolutely confused look showed on Clint as he looked the other man over from head to toe. Questioning him. Man he so wanted to know what his secret trick was to handle this better than anyone else. All he got was half a shrug.

“There is coffee inside,” the man said more to Wade than Clint, as the later was already aware of it. “You can have my cup.”

Looking back to Wade, Clint noticed the small nod before he moved, everyone keeping a close eye on him until he was inside, beside Peter.

“You going back in there?”  
“Not a chance in hell.”  
A snort was heard from Steve on the floor, making both look down on him with skeptic smiles.  
“No one asked _you_ , Stevie.”

**_____________________________**

 

Dreams usually escaped you when you woke up. Barely letting you have half of what you dreamed as a memory. Coma, Peter would come to realize. Was no different. If he had done any thinking or dreaming he wasn’t privy to any of it anymore. He was just some body coming back together from being in pieces.

What he did, however. manage to piece together in his broken train of thoughts. was that anyone that ever join a job similar to being an Avenger should totally get a run down of uncomfortable experience that they might be forced to live to go through. No one had ever told him how absolutely horrible it’d be to wake up with a tube down his throat, breathing for him.

Instead of calmly awakening the way he did any weekend morning, Peter was coughing and struggling to get the damn thing out. His whole body convulsing with the straining complaints his muscles made. His whole body sore from being still for so long.

_Oh god it was agony._

helping hands came to him before he could focus on anything but the pain in his throat. Several hands holding him down, and someone freeing him from the tube helping his breathing. The very moment it was out he felt like he had truly found heaven. Oh what a relief it was.

His eyes was watering over from how hard he had been coughing, making it a bit harder still to make anything out beyond shadows and colors. It was all slowly piecing back together for him. Sounds beyond voices he couldn’t understand just yet.

The first real thing he could focus on, as he was curled up on his side, while someone was listening to his heart, or maybe it was his lungs? Was the face of Capta- No… that was Steve Rogers. Oh god he was in the same room as Steve Rogers, and he was so close. And so- Wait did he look worried?

Confusion mixed in together with the pain Peter was experiencing. And the big hand that days ago had gripped his shoulder, was now extended to him. He took it. Holding Steve’s hand close to just steady himself with it.

“ _Did we win?_ ”

His voice was small and hoarse. But it was good enough to make the whole room smile. Relief seemed to fill all of them, doctors, nurses, and visitors alike. They all visibly relaxed, even to someone that could barely focus his eyesight, Peter could see it.

“... I didn’t… scare anyone, right?”  
“You brat.”

He could tell Steve said it with a very fond tone, which was further confirmed when the later’s free hand came up to tussle through Peter’s messy hair. The hand he was holding he was allowed to keep, apparently. Which was strangely comforting. Felt like just the support he needed. Because it was he who needed it right?

A look around the room, when he had gotten his glasses. let him note just how many was in the room, even has the doctor and the nurses slipped out of the room it was still crowded. Steve was obviously there, now sitting next to the bed on a chair. The second chair the room had to offer occupied by Aunt May. Oh shit… so much for that cover.

Standing around him, Peter noted there was both Bucky and Thor, seemingly held back by Nat. Well that was an amusing sight. Last but not alone to enter the room came Clint, draggin Wade along with him. The sight of the last two making Peter almost snort with amusement.

“... I’m guessing I did scare some of you, huh?”  
“You bet you’re sorr-”  
“Wade…”

A warning tone lingered in Clint’s voice when he cut off the merc as he approached the bed. It had the scarred man pausing completely. Seeming like he suddenly became very much aware of how many people was in the room. Making him shift uncomfortably in his own skin. Of course, having known Wade long enough. Peter could tell what the issue was, as he was missing his mask.

“Hey, Wade. Did you get a new haircut?”  
“I- what?”

The whole room snickered when Clint reached up to pretend to polish the hairless scalp Wade sported with his sleeve.  
“There you go, buddy.”

Amusement spread all around, letting people relax more with gentle chit chat going on, allowing one or another slip out of the room as time passed. Tony briefly stepped by the room to offer Aunt May a ride home. And in the end it was only Peter and Steve left in the room.

Wade having been the last man to leave them had made an attempt be allowed to stay longer, only to have been collected by Bucky no less than one minute later.

The silence stretched on, long enough to let Peter pick up on the discomfort the Captain seemed to be sitting in. His own eyebrows knitted together with slight confusion, but he didn’t dare speak up wither. It somehow felt rude to interrupt the silence.

It didn’t take too much time before Steve cleared his throat, getting the eye contact he searched for from Peter in an instant.

“Peter…”  
“Thank you.”  
“W-... What?”  
“Thank you. For letting me stick around.”  
“I-... But-... Hold on just a second now.”  
“You were going to tell me to stop, right?”

Silence once again came to the room, but this time without either of them meaning for it to stretch out. Steve had a perplexed look on his face, internally debating how to handle the situation.

“... Yes. I was. Among other things.”  
“Well, then don’t. I already know the whole speech. I can almost bet my suit that I know just every word you would say, so don’t. You know it’s not going to make me stop. I know it isn’t going to make me stop. So don’t.”  
“... At least be careful, yeah?”  
“Says the man that almost got shot?”

The amusement shown on Peter’s face didn’t really belong in the conversation. It still happened, and Peter almost dared the older more experienced man to take the bait.

“With you around seems I don’t have to be careful.”

The comeback caught Peter completely off guard, and had him let out a strained laugh. Oh so he could be sassy when he wasn’t acting the part of Captain America, huh?

“Use Wade as shield next time. At least he can take it.”  
“Doubt he’d ever take a bullet for me now.”  
“We could find out…”  
“ _No_. Absolutely not.”

A far too amused grin lingered on Peter’s lips. Steve only shook his head at the absurd conversation. He was so glad he didn’t have a teenage kid himself to try and raise to be a responsible adult.

Getting up from the chair, Steve gave Peter’s hand a firm squeeze before taking his hand back for the first time since Peter had come back to the world of the living.

“Thank you, Parker. For saving me.”  
“That’s what teammates are for, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> I got an incredible urge to write when I came across the issue again and saw the panel with Steve holding a bleeding Peter. So this is me changing that around in a sloppy manner.
> 
> And to clarify; No Steve is not a fool that leaves his friends and comrades behind. He simply didn't have time enough to pause and see what was right in front of him. Cut a stressed man some slack for his mistakes.


End file.
